Homebrew tabletop system- playtesters requested

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Relvenous, it's unusual, but there's absolutely no rule that says PC's have to be normal, so go with it if it works for you.

Norade, orcish names can vary a lot; there is an orc (this is an example, not an option- it's taken)- who has the patronymic Al'Lindraleathan; clearly elvish, right? Not a crossbreed- their grandfather was a famous, and effective, bandit. He sacked an elvish frontier settlement, striped it bare, and stole the name as a trophy. Anyway, you arrive just after this happens;

de la Novara nods to Randolf. 'Good. Do you defend yourself with a scalpel? That- actually, Ravyl, go with him, cover his back.'
A dark figure steps out of his retinue, pushes the hood of her cloak back; midnight blue skin, lemon- white braided hair. She looks at you and turns to her boss. 'Another babysitting job?'
'You live longer than we do, get used to it.' It's evidently an old argument. 'Any ideas?'
'To do this drastic a job, this well? Youngsters, very well trained but new to the field. Only a fool would do it like this, only someone very good could. Talented, brash and cocky.' she says.
'Your middle names.' he replies, they smile at each other, and she turns to leave, saying to you over her shoulder 'Well, come on then.'

Norade, this is where you come in, next to a house that everyone seems to be shrieking about (and some blaming the Striking Phoenix); black- robed and shirted men standing around, and a human in a physicaian's gown being escorted out by a svartalfven.

[Vehrec]

Relvenous, I have a suggestion. We already have one example of a Zarthani name, and it's in the classical 'of the place' format, de la Novara translates to 'of Novara'. Pull up a map of Spain or France, find a place name, and give it the 'de la/del' treatment.

[Lord Relvenous]

Thanks Vehrec. That does help.

[Lord Relvenous]

And a ghetto edit because I'm an idiot:

Would a name like Gabriel de la Andorra work better within the context of the world?

[Norade]

Halting his mount at the edge of the crowd Safrac hears the talking of the crowd and can pick out a few notable sounding names among the chatter as well as hearing talk that this may have been caused by the Striking Phoenix, a group that he was a few days to slow to observe in action. However the crowd isn't the most interesting thing the black robed group standing nearest to the house and the strong scent in the air are far more interesting than that, and the man giving orders even more so. Thus he urges his horse forward through the crowd to get himself nearer to the scene.

Once he's reached the group he's interested he dismounts his horse and announces himself to the man giving the orders, "I am Safrac Thuruar, Knight of the Army Group South Vathlin. Would you be able to fill me in on what exactly has been going on?"

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

It's done, the van full of things to sell is on it's way to the market and everyone who isn't going is heading to catch up on a week's lost sleep, and let the muscle cramps fade away. Back to abnormal for a little while.

Relvenous, place names tend to be for two reasons- because they've come from somewhere, in which case they are known in their new community by their old one. To take an example, say Jack London. If he lived in London, it'd be a bit silly, wouldn't it? If he moved to Birmngham, they might start calling him the Londoner, which gets shortened eventually to Jack from London, then just Jack London or because they own it. As someone who was forced out, go with it.

Norade, your numbers are almost all good- one thing, Charm, you should actually have one more point in Carousing or Human Perception.

Just in case anyone was wondering, the skills do actually matter, I'm doing the dice at this end- how much rules talk do you want me to keep up?


Norade, first of all, Safrac's kit; for armour, probably is a full Chevalier, which means the head to foot full plate- randomly generating quality of kit, it isn't particularly good stuff, must have been a rush job at the armoury- damage reduction 11, physical burden 3.
Warhammer, average, one hand medium reach dv 13 Id 2, kite shield, bonus +2 Id 16,
composite bow, good, effective 140 long 300, dv 13.
Literate, which is less usual for orcs, so yes, paper is rare- think pre- printing press, there are no real economies of scale there yet, it's still quite expensive.

Mount; horse or boar? Either is an option- warboars are definitely orcish, however, and also take a lot more looking after. Less good for covering distance, intestinally much tougher and better in a fight.

what happens; (rolling the dice to establish a baseline- Fortune, excellent; Persuasion to get them to talk, critical failure- this could be entertaining) as you ride up, they start to turn and look at you. There are a few armed men, the ones in black cloaks- Novara's still inside the house and you're going to have to deal with them before you get that far, and a lot of spectators who have halfbricks, knives, or some kind of improvised weapon.

They are not feeling respectful at the moment. Downright mutinous, in fact, as the first one to put togehter what that means shouts at you 'your people tried to burn us, bastard' and follows it up with throwing a rock at you. Technically a hit but nowhere near enough to do more than scuff your pauldron- but it looks like it's about to be the first of many.

Vehrec, Rudolf is watching this, the dark elf moves to hurry you away before things turn ugly- which they probably will.

[Vehrec]

If Randolf has one thing, it's a brain. It thinks, it imagines, it conceptualizes. And right now, it's jumping up and down showing him flashcards of what the Striking Pheonix will do if one of their own gets lynched. For his own safety, as well as the city's, this needs stopped. Time to dig in his heels and shout back. "Oh yes, would you like them to come back and finish the job? Perhaps castrate every man old enough to have hair on what they'll take away, or make a mountain of skulls? Was the death and the stink and the filth of war not enough for you, and now you want MORE?!?" Spittle flies from his lips as he almost screams that last bit, genuinely furious at the idiotic lack of self-preservation displayed by that act.

[Norade]

(I think I'll be using a courser stallion as my mount, a nice robust animal standing at about 18 hands. Would I happen to have some leather or padded barding for such a mount? Also I might have parchment instead of paper as it seems it would be cheaper in this setting.

As for the skill, I think I'll added it to human perception.)

Flinching he deflects the brick off of a pauldron as his face turns to a dour scowl. After the first brick hits him Safrac draws his hammer from his belt loop and hefts his shield from its position on his saddle to a ready position on his left arm. Once this is done he takes a fighting stance and gets ready to have to use his hammer should the crowd not see that there is error in attacking a knight.

Fighting down his urge to do something rash with his hammer the ork is about to bellow something out when a man in a white coat starts to speak in a very passionate manner to the crowd. The statement is a good one, but he's realizing that his job is more difficult now that he's being lumped in with the Striking Pheonix. The realization doesn't exactly sweeten his foul mood any.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

(some dicework)-
this isn't exactly rough working class territory, the majority of the crowd are people who live and work nearby in the industries that serve the old town- craftsmen and craftsmen's apprentices and the like. They're not warriors, most of them aren't even brawlers. They might succeed in dragging Safrac off his imposingly huge horse (they really don't come much bigger than that) and bludgeoning him to death by sheer weight of numbers, but they'd need to be driven on to do it.

They make a few shambling half- moves forward, the rear edge of the group is closer to Rudolf and starts drifting, some running, away, someone in the middle of the group shouts 'Get-' and seems to stop, the warhammer comes out, accompanied by a glare and a growl, and the mob briefly tries to drive each other on, when it comes to make or break, when they have to decide if they're all going to jump you or crack and run- between persuasion and intimidation, they break. A couple of rocks thrown, but nothing serious.

Rudolf, you look round and realise the dark elf has moved, she's just coming back, says to you 'I was right, you don't need a bodyguard, you need a babysitter. Don Arcangelo gave you a job to do, enough distractions.'
There are two bodies on the ground where the mob was- one of them is wriggling and moaning, one of them twitching quite badly. They weren't hit with a warhammer, obviously, nor with the sort of improvised weapons the mob had. 'They'll recover eventually, come on.' she says, intending to leave this mess behind and head to the alchemists' and apothecaries' quarter.

Norade, Safrac notices all of this with some relief, although that dark elf- you know you didn't do anything to the two on the ground, you know she moved, you didn't see a damn bit of the process (Perception vs. stealth augmented by martial arts magic) but it's hard to avoid the obvious conclusion.

The crowd is dispersing, you notice that the black- cloaked men are better armed, some with crossbows, and there are also a group of properly armed and armoured men with scraps of heraldry about them maybe fifty yards away, waving to you to come in that direction- they look vaguely official, but also scared.

[Norade]

(The horse was meant to be a monster for its time. I figured it is better for the distance riding he wants in a mount than a boar yet still orkishly intimidating.)

With a satisfied grunt at the dispersing crowd Safrac returns his hammer to its loop on his belt. As he shifts gears from being ready to fight he sees two people down on the ground, though obviously not because of his actions, and not caused by the mob; this leads him to believe that it could have been the dark elf that he had lost track of in the moment. He would think more on the matter but a group of properly armed and armored men bearing official heraldry are waving him over. At a glance he can see that they're nervous, and he immediately jumps to the conclusion that the group in the black robes must be the main cause of this tension.

Deciding that his best course of action is to speak with the official group the knight dismounts and takes a moment to introduce himself and and inquire as to who exactly they are, "I am Safrac Thuruar, Knight of the Army Group South Vathlin, who might you be?"

[Lord Relvenous]

Ok so it looks like Gabriel de la Andorra is my name. For equipment, I don't really know what you consider appropriate for a starting character. I would guess that I would start with a weapon of my choice (Longsword), some basic supplies (whatever those may be), some sort of protective wear seeing as how I'm a combat oriented character (leather reinforced with chainmail?), and maybe a secondary weapon (a flail). Anything else you'd think of?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

The rule for kit as a beginning character is that you have whatever your character has the skills to use; any skill of 10 or better, you have the physical bits to support it. Within reason. A Miner, for instance, would not get a mine, but they might have a pit pony with a load of tools strapped to it's back.

An axe, a longsword and a flail; the axe is mediocre, more of a survival tool than anything else, (1-hd short melee dv 9), the longsword was a battlefield retrieval and has a few hairline cracks to it (1 hd med melee dv 10), the flail is of higher quality, 1 hand medium melee dv 12 Id 2.

Reinforced leather is good for someone who spends a lot of time on the road- good quality stuff, dr 6, burden 1.

Kit quality varies a lot, there's a standard average value for a decent, standard example of the type, but beginning characters get a fortune roll for quality; full plate for instance is dr 12, burden 2 as standard, most are close to this but the extremes are basically DR 8 to 18. Norade, you were unlucky in that, horse is good quality though.

What happens where? Baerne, by now, trading and trekking across the city, Valette is half a day ahead of everyone else chronologically, although, Lusankya, that might just be your cue, if you want to bump into each other.

Vehrec, as Rudolf does the rounds with this strange dark elf, it becomes worryingly obvious that she knows a lot about, hm, let's call it Better Politics Through Chemistry for now. She knows a remarkably large number of people at the seedy end of the scale, and at the very top; in a peacetime population of forty thousand odd and maybe another hundred thousand within reach of the big city, many brew their own traditional remedies, but there are thirty or so who do it on a large enough scale to be properly called apothecaries, official and unofficial.

Basically, she takes the lead on dealing with the top three and bottom seven, leaving you to deal with the middle twenty. Her metabolism obviously doesn't work the same way yours does- the term 'supper' has no meaning for her, and you actually have a bit of an argument about that- which, to your own surprise, you win. She's actually quite rude about it, making comments like 'So this is when they put the feeding trough out'- but you end up arguing comparative biology.

Basicaly, they live much longer- but grow more slowly, and breed much less often. Their biochemistry is very different- never try to eat an elf- and that gets on to the subject of poisons. 'Most humans assume it's part of our natures, it really isn't- more like part of yours to be so easily poisoned. We're far more resistant than you are; one of the reasons I'm sure it was my kin- or elves- who did that, a group of human assassins would have killed themselves with their own weapons before they got half way down the road. Poisoning a human is like pushing at an open door; we're not just looking for someone who wanted to kill the baronet, we're looking for someone who wanted to overkill him, and who either was or could hire svartalfven assassins. Probably hire.'

She blunders badly later on, overdoing it with one of the seedier potion makers, practically accusing him up front, and the locals almost turn out to defend him- you do defuse the situation, but you learn nothing.
By the end of the day, and thirty minor interrogations pretty much is a day's work especially in winter, there's a rumour going around that Rudolf did it himself.

You do have three names of physicians known to you who have been buying up unusually toxic things in unusually large quantities, and four descriptions of ordinary people who have been buying such things, one of them apparently a priest of the god of anger and revenge in plain clothes, all using what she is sure would be fake names. It's sunset, by the time you get to this point.

Norade, Safrac is going to be getting the other side of the story from the undersherriff's men. Post that in a bit.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Right. Norade, Safrac moves in their direction- there are still some spectators, carefully keeping their distance but nonetheless there; unless you specifically go somewhere private, or chase them off, there are going to be rumours started and political ripples made by this.

The people you come across are mainly men at arms, mainly recruited from around here; their arms and armour identify them, but their faces and builds look just like the locals. There are ten of them, most in chainmail, and armed with a sword and a long club each, only two have shields. Most of them have tabards or sashes in the colours of the dead Count, all but one with the thin black half- circle cadence mark that means 'I work for'- minor retainers. The one who has his own mark and is evidently in charge also has a red weal across his neck, and looks severely annoyed.

He's surprised to see you (mutual failures of human perception and acting)- then forces himself to look pleased, not entirely convincingly. 'I am Airton Kal, undersherriff of the old city precinct. You are a-' he trips over this slightly- 'being of rank, what have you come to do? Have you no retinue?'

(Actually, followers and dependents are one of the things that come with formal rank, and as a Knight, yes, arguably you should- but under the circumstances, your instructions being 'chase after those homicidal idiots, find out exactly what they're doing and get them to stop it', they had to be left behind- you can buy up the advantage later, more about that when we start doing XP.)

One of his men starts shouting at you 'He's one of them, they'rte going to put us all to the sword in the king's name-' two of his collegaues manhandle him away. Kal just looks depressed. 'Most of the city would say he was right. They came without warning, in the night, they didn't even pillage; it was, blood was all they were interested in. Kill and leave, with no sense to it.

In the wake of it all,the parasites come out to feed, those black-cloaked bastards- they're the sweepings of the jails, a collection of low class and foreign scum who owe allegiance to a viper. Novara, that filthy z-' all right, so tolerance isn't the undersherriff's best thing- 'conned and bribe his way into the court, and he's just murdered one of the few good men we had left, a loyal and upstanding noble.'

On one hand, he is an official, a minor officer fo the court and an upholder of the law- on the other, looking at his men, some of whom look as if they were living a little too well before all this happened and who are in poor order now, and at how much he wants you to believe this, something doesn't ring entirely true.


Relvenous, de Andorra comes on these proceedings- and looking from where he's standing, he can see the back- cloaked men under the direction of their leader start to organise themselves into a firing line. They're inside the walls of the house, but they're forming up in three ranks- very badly; the man telling them what to do knows how to do it, but they don't. Front rank spear and shield, middle and rear ranks hand weapons slung, holding crossbows. What are you going to do about this?

[Lord Relvenous]

Knowing nothing of the situation, de Andorra is wary of jumping into a situation on either side. He does recognize the marking of the local official (this is his home county) and assumes the others are constabulary of some sort, but the group of black-cloaked men is unknown to him. Deciding information is needed before a decision can be made, he approaches a group of spectators, hoping to learn more about the situation. Information sought consists of who are the men in black cloaks, what is the nature of the disagreement between the two groups, and what the hell is that smell? Also any information that people seem most enthusiastic about.

[Master_Baerne]

Right, I can't really do anything until the schedule catches up with Valette; I think she's about a day ahead. Just know that I'm still here.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Baerne, once something happens to Valette I'll get back to her- but most of the gossip of the day is likely to be about the incident that may be about to kick off now.


De Andorra manages to find someone willing to talk to him on the fourth attempt; many people, after some masterly acts of intimidation, are simply hiding. No- one wants to go into centre stage, but there are a lot of people willing to hang around the outside and watch the fight that's quite likely to kick off.

The being you end up talking to is actually an elf; he has a vellum pad and what looks like a stick, and is making rapid sketches on the vellum, capturing the scene. Not all that surprising- before the war there were roughly three hundred thousand humans and maybe thirty thousand elves (precise numbers deeply uncertain for thaumaturgical reasons) in Auvaine County. There are bound to be a few of them about.

Actually, he starts on you. You can hear the mental gears turning as he sets the appropriate condescendingness level. 'Perhaps you can help me, I know relatively little of you humans' rites and displays. This seems very scruffy for a formal challenge of lordship.' Even by your standards, goes unsaid at the end of that. He may be bigoted, but he's well informed- no doubt he would invite you to draw the obvious conclusion between those two facts.

After some discussion about exactly what is happening, he says 'Ah, an informal challenge then, a turf war, although the turf's feelings never seem to be taken into account. I hope for your sake that it is a dress rehearsal for the real thing; you do realise that your society is far out of balance, that you have effectively run out of lords? All you have left are minor functionaries of compromised integrity who were barely competent to fill the positions they were in before all this,' he points at the sherriff who he is making a very unflattering caricature of, 'and largely unknown qualities whose real talents can hardly be described in polite company.'

Eventually, you manage to persuade him that you are not polite company and can safely have the blackcloaks' leader described to you, actually he saiys 'I'm interested in how an ordinary human would react to this...Fine, I'll tell you for experimental purposes.

Arcangelo de la Novara- expatriate from Further Zarthan, apparently he had too much good taste to subscribe to his compatriates' xenophobia, which is a minimally positive consideration in his favour.' He draws a quick sketch, of a man with three faces, hands it to you, notices your confusion (it's a fairly safe bet that almost anyone is going to be confused by a highly abstract elvish caricature) and says 'Symbolism in art is not your strong suit, then.'

Three faces, three roles, three aspects- that much is fairly obvious, and you manage to convince the artist not to give it to you in baby talk. 'First and most obviously, he is a criminal. Smuggling, tax evasion, assassination, organised theft, name it and look far enough, he was behind it. Outwardly, a prosperous businessman with trading links and contacts all across the peninsula, and many employees in that regard. The black cloaked men are in fact his gang, at least one small part of it.

The reason he was allowed to get away with this, and in fact appear to the extremely unobservant- ninety-eight percent of your population in other words- as a solid citizen was that he was also, quite unofficially, your dead Count's chief spymaster. We're not supposed to know this of course, but one can only live so long before learning something- and I think most of his gang would be equally surprised to be told.

He may, in fact, be the senior survivor of the former court. Unfortunately for him, I don't think there's anyone else alive who can back his story up, and who also wants to. The Sherriff probably could. I don't think he will, do you?'

[Lord Relvenous]

De Andorra thanks the elf for his forthrightness and intellectually stimulating conversation, using his knowledge of courtly language to make it a proper extension of gratitude. Sure, using such flowery terms raises a little bile in the back of his throat, but every acquaintance could become a valued contact, no sense in ruining that prospect.

Having a better hold on the particulars of the situation, de Andorra sizes up the two groups. Though they are untrained, the black-cloaked men definitely have the upper hand, having a competent leader, a prepared position, and crossbows. The bolts from said crossbows would cut down the retainers before they could even threaten the front rank with their hand weapons. It'd be a massacre. Most importantly, however, de Novara is someone no one should want dead at this point. Due to his contacts and political power, a man of de Novara's qualities is needed to hold together the city in the aftermath of the slaughter. There are no official figures that could step up into that role, and if one tried it would only result in more fighting. From a cynic's view, the city needs de Novara alive, and that can't be risked because of some squabble with some local flunkie.

De Andorra decides that he should probably see what he could do to alleviate the situation. He approaches the group of retainers, making sure to do so in a way as to not alarm them. He's not quite sure the approach he will take, as it depends on the manner he is received. As he has no official standing, he will instead try to speak with the leader of the group as an experienced campaigner cautioning as to the advisability of actions, a consultant if you will. He might not be able to convince the leader, but if he could convince the knight standing near him (who would probably have some modicum of authority, as he is of rank), maybe he could get some leverage to bring both groups back from the edge.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Norade, this is your ball; I thought about it when writing this up, and decided players are not obliged to take take the results of skill checks between their characters as mandatory- respect them and take them as a hint, but ultimately it's up to you what you want to say and do in this situation.

Vehrec, the dark elf is looking at Rudolf impatiently- it's getting dark, but that's perfectly fine by her, she wants to go and roust out a few of those names now. You still can't believe a couple of them yourself. The unknowns that you have descriptions of, she's also enthusiastic to get right on the trail, now. The priest, she wants to go and burgle his temple, preferably some time after midnight, which leaves plenty of time for the rest of the business.

Baerne, where Valette's staying is (fortune check) an old coaching inn that has a particularly odious reputation right now because of what happened in the battle. When the Striking Phoenix hit, the lords' retinues and militia in the area rallied here, at the Sign of the Silver Leopard, and were caught in mid muster- most of them never made it out of the courtyard. The mess has all been cleared away, but... there are refugees and homeless wjho have been taken in, but the owner and her staff are pathetically grateful for anyone willing to pay to stay there now, and Valette has a fair amount of space to herself.

Digging out the sheaf of papers Valette grabbed, rubbing them down with scent neutraliser (starting on the least important first just in case), three of them are minor matters- a dispute over a field boundary, a petition against being evicted and a claim for wergild against one of the baronet's men; two are moderately important, one summons to court from an aggrieved smallholder claiming that the baronet violated the terms of his lease by selling it to another landowner without consent, and threatening to have it all out before the count's law, and one written in Elvish, with numerous annotations- most of them saying 'I don't know what this means'- the context seems to be agricultural from what Valette can decipher.

There are three, though, that...one is a contract to sell in free socage a piece of land that he owns. There are annotations from the baronet's bailiff pointing out that their ownership of it is an accident anyway, they do not have the rights the buyer is looking that they sell, and the buyer could probably not be trusted as far as he could spit her. It's signed.

The second that matters is a declaration of allegiance. It's not signed, there are a strange collection of scratchmarks as if he has signed it and thought better of it and erased the signature; "do pledge myself to the overthrow of the present system and the restoration of good government", "accept it as my bounden duty to oppose and work for the downfall of." Phrases like that.

The most important one is that you managed to snag the baronet's last will and testament. They're going to be looking for that, with some urgency. It's very recently written, and cuts his two oldest sons out of the will entirely, dividing his holdings between his youngest son and eldest daughter; generous bequests to two women, neither of whom were his wife, some traditional rights assigned to a collection of names, bailiffs and yeomen for the most part.

It probably has some kind of protection or warding on it. In fact, as you think that, it starts to glow, with a blue radiance spreading out from it throughout the room- what do you do?

[Vehrec]

Randolf's none too happy about loosing sleep, he's a strong proponent of its regenerative powers and is fond of practicing what he preaches about lifestyle and diet. He's also expressing a wish that he could have extracted a few samples from the dead and narrowed down the field of toxins a bit-It might have helped, it might not have, but it would have saved him a day on his feet and interrogating his fellow businessmen. However, after the incident where she very nearly precipitated a lynching, he's decided to stick it out, albeit with some grumbling. "Oh a fool I was, agreeing to this without naming a fee, doubly foolish for rushing out without stopping for so much as a look at the water they dunked that thing in." He agrees to go after the doctors and the unknowns, if they can be found, but he draws the line at burglary, breaking and entering. He has no experience, and little talent in the areas of moving without being seen, heard or otherwise not making a fuss. He's more afraid of making a botch of it in front of an expert than he is of getting caught and hauled before a judge, and that might show as he talks to her.

As an out of character note, Would stunning or knocking someone out fall under the life magic he has?-suppressing their energy instead of rousing it to heal, removing the active mind and motive capability? Useful for surgery or for self defense, good thing to have in general I should think, even if it has to be touch delivered or requires concentration.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

After watching Ravyl in action, Rudolf comes to the conclusion that she's good- but not quite as good as she thinks she is. Partly racial arrogance, partly the deterrence value of making an impression, but she's pushing herself hard, and either doesn't know or more likely refuses to admit to herself when to stop.

You mention not exactly being a trained burglar, and she says, after a moment's thought, 'How are you as an actor? They're unlikely to even bother with the legalities, a god of hate and revenge after all- if you could bluff your way in as a supplicant, a seeker after retribution, get them talking and distracted while I go in over the rooftops, that might be more suited to your talents, yes? Prefer to do that later in the day- let us start with your colleagues.'


Life magic- short version, yes. It affects the life processes, in a magical way, so it can be used to suppress, and I should porobably go into some rules detail. Range is determined by power, range for a straightforward effect equals the power squared in yards (I have it on a lookup table somewhere, you don't have to do this), range for a complex effect equals the power, range for a intricate effect is usually touch or arms' reach. As a rule of thumb, if it takes a word or a short phrase to describe, it's straightforward, if it takes a sentence it's complex, if it takes a paragraph it's intricate.

Healing someone is an intricate effect; searching for living things in a cave system or a collapsed building would be straightforward, and at 'complicated' range, you could inflict nonlethal, fatigue damage as an attack, or disorient them and inflict cramps and muscle spasms so that their skills are reduced. Do a song and dance about it- almost literally, a formal rite with Rites and Rituals skill- and you could multiply those ranges by a factor of your Power again, but that's exactly the sort of thing you're not likely to have time to do when you're under attack.

Life magic tends to have serious side effects anyway; there is a shock associated with having your life force rearranged, growing pains in the case of organic damage, fever, disorientation and delirium are common- it's the body reacting to being messed with. In extreme cases, the delirium and fever may run deep enough that you could end up saving someone's body at the cost of their mind.

There are ways around this- the more precise and limited a job you do, the smaller the problem is, and the better the magic flows for you on the day, the smaller the post- thaumaturgical reaction will be. There are even ways to turn it to advantage; one character, who you may meet later, is obliged by her rank to fight but will not kill if she can possibly avoid it, so she has a blade enchanted with life magic. When she stabs someone, it heals the wound it makes- leaving them incapacitated but alive, and no longer a threat.

This is also the same character who resorted to a highly specific use of life magic to get past a group of guards on a river crossing one night, that resulted in them being too ill to stop her and the crossing being temporarily renamed 'dysentery bridge'. There are options out there, I'm sure.

[Master_Baerne]

Dammit. thinks Valette to herself, eyeing the paper warily. It appears not to be a trap; else she'd be having this internal discussion somewhere much less pleasant, so... What is it? Just to be on ths safe side, she chucks the paper behind a table and takes cover across the room, but she's not really expecting it to explode or anything along those lines. Assuming it doesn't, she'll go visit her host and see if it left any kind of mark on her - after checking in the mirror, of course, but it'd be just the right sort of nasty to have a giant floating "I'm a thief" sign invisible to the actual thief following her around.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

The document fails to explode, at least for now- not surprising, whoever's on the other end of the magic being radiated at it probably wants it back. When Valette stares at it, it vanishes; but catch it sideways, in the peripheral vision, she can see a faint blue shimmer radiating into the room- it's vision and insight magic, scrying for the missing documents. Looking at herself in the mirror, the faint aura seems to be hanging on to her too.

That ability to spot things that aren't quite real is standing her in good stead now; most people would never notice that they're being watched, or had been tagged. Whoever did this, or whoever paid for it to be done, knows where she and the scrolls are now; and worse yet if they're following usual good practise has a single use talisman, a glass arrow for instance, that they can play hot-and-cold with to follow the taint the magic placed on her.

Normally, options reduce to two; physically outrun the search party, or somehow break the trace- and the thought occurs to her; was there no family, no-one out there who knows? Is there nobody from the other end of her secret who can or would, or who cares enough, to try finding her by such means- or if there were, why didn't it work?

What's she going to try to do?

[Master_Baerne]

As she sees it, someone would have had to be very quick indeed to put a trace on the will that soon after it was needed - that means someone who knew exactly what they were looking for. That speaks of someone with a vested interest in the will, and it seems like it would be a bad idea to let such a person find her.

Going on information she has, the two sons left out of the will are the most likely suspects for the whole sordid business. Perhaps the other two children could be of help? They might be inclined favorably towards the woman who, at great personal risk to herself, brought them their father's will. What are Valette's chances of making it to one of the two non-disinherited children?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Finding them is going to be the hard part, assuming they're even still alive. Chances are, the eldest son isn't- he would have been defending the family holdings, and there are nothing but horror stories coming from around there.

There are a handful of place names in the various documents for you to go on, some plots in the city itself the largest being the one he built his townhouse on; but most of his lands are to the south and east of Auvaine city, with a keep just outside Bylandt-a town of about six thousand people forty miles away to the south-south-east.

Moving across country like that is going to involve outrunning the search party, they're likely to be better riders and better mounted than you are. More exotic options- airboats, teleporting, shapeshifting to a faster creature- are theoretically possible but much more likely to be open to them than to you. In fact, moving now would be good.

The eldest daughter named in the document, Dame Carlotta, is residing in the city- or at least was when the will was drawn up, before the assault and the fires.

[Norade]

(Sorry went away for the weekend and ended up with less net access than I had planned for...)

Inspecting the men gathered a moment it isn't too much wonder that the town was such easy pickings, they don't seem at all organized, and any really force wouldn't be loafing about when there is work to be done. The highest ranking among them seems a half-wit, blundering over his words and obviously being cowed by the black robed group standing opposite. The whole thing is more like rival gangs facing off over a neighborhood than the city's lawmen facing down some rabble.

Answering the question about his retinue Safrac explains tersely, "A retinue would run counter to my goals. Now get on with it, it seems there is much to be done and too few people doing it." The last bit is obviously directed at the group standing before him.

Maybe it was his tone, but as his comment draws a rather heated response. One that might have forced him to draw blood had his own not restrained him so quickly. He notices that the undersheriff says nothing on the matter and he wonders what would have become of the city had he never arrived. In any case listen tho the rest of what he has to say doesn't exactly prove enlightening and he doubts that these men will have much to say that wouldn't be best learned else where.

However courtesy must be maintained so he takes the time to explain himself, "I can understand why I might be compared to the likes of the Striking Phoenix, but such an assessment couldn't be further from the mark. I was sent here in hopes of finding news that your city's guard had slowed them enough so a proper force could run them down. I see now that I should have been sent a town ahead for all the fight this city looks to have put up..."

Clearly annoyed by the quality of the men he has to work with and the situation he finds himself in the ranking man lets out a long sigh and then asks, "What has everybody gathered out here like a bunch of moths to a flame?"